


Acoupla Fucked Weirdos

by Depressed_Lemon_Bite



Series: Competitive Bastards [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: (The good kind), Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, First Kiss, M/M, Masturbation, Smut, Verbal Humiliation, mentions of various kinks, oh and grimmjow speaks french, two dirty boys being dirty boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressed_Lemon_Bite/pseuds/Depressed_Lemon_Bite
Summary: It took five days before things got awkward. Ever since that dumb little competition, they found themselves unable to do anything else. Grimmjow came to his apartment, which was normal. They watched a movie, drank beer, and smoked what certainly wasn’t a cigarette, also normal. Their nights, however, didn’t use to end with both of them coming on the floor or in their hands as if they were back in high school and trying to rub one out with the first boyfriend before the family came home. That wasn’t normal. Ichigo didn’t use to keep lube hidden between the couch cushions so they were always prepared; that’s how not normal this whole thing was. It didn’t bother either of them at first. That high from the first night returned every time they saw each other so all concerns in the back of their brains vanished into nothingness, but like all highs, they had to crash eventually.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Competitive Bastards [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1170299
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114





	Acoupla Fucked Weirdos

It took five days before things got awkward. Ever since that dumb little competition, they found themselves unable to do anything else. Grimmjow came to his apartment, which was normal. They watched a movie, drank beer, and smoked what certainly wasn’t a cigarette, also normal. Their nights, however, didn’t use to end with both of them coming on the floor or in their hands as if they were back in high school and trying to rub one out with the first boyfriend before the family came home. That wasn’t normal. Ichigo didn’t use to keep lube hidden between the couch cushions so they were always prepared; _that’s_ how not normal this whole thing was. It didn’t bother either of them at first. That high from the first night returned every time they saw each other so all concerns in the back of their brains vanished into nothingness, but like all highs, they had to crash eventually.

It was weird. Ichigo honestly couldn’t remember if there was ever a time he was awkward around Grimmjow before now. Hatred, bloodlust, and annoyance was a common theme, in the beginning, then it bled to annoyance and comradery. It was never awkward. Hell, the first night when Grimmjow showed up at his apartment unannounced with a beat up face and a dislocated shoulder and a pack of beer as payment he hadn’t even batted an eyelash. Ichigo just popped his arm back in place and they ended up drinking and watching the rest of the movie he had playing together. Lust was the beast that fucked everything up. Their relationship, whatever the hell it was, didn’t hold well against that particular addictive hunger. Sure, becoming a stoner and a budding alcoholic was perfectly fine, but natural, biologically normal lust was what did the whole damn thing in. It wasn’t like they had touched each other or anything. The closest they had come to physical contact was Grimmjow whispering filthy shit into his ear, which he occasionally chewed on like a damn dog, and Ichigo _sometimes_ reaching out to wipe cum from Grimmjow’s piercing along with the trail on the underside of his cock. They were compulsive actions. Not planned and not even thought through. They just saw something they wanted and took it. Nothing to be awkward about, really. Ichigo had done way worse to other guys before. Of course, at the same time, he never had a guy catch his cum in their hand and then use it as lube to finish jacking off. That’s what Grimmjow had done last night. That’s why they were like this now. Sitting as far away from each other as they could. Staring at the black screen of the television. Beer, warm and forgotten on the floor, with a small baggie of pot laying unopened beside it.

Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow and his breath hitched. He was blushing. The fucking bastard was _blushing_. A hand subtly palmed the bulge growing in his pants. He never thought blushing would be a turn on for him but _shit_. Grimmjow was always so cocky and confident, to see him any other way was incredible. Teeth carved into Ichigo’s cheek. That’s the face he would love to see on a man on his knees. Grimmjow would look so damn good with a cock in his mouth, blushing like he had never done anything filthy in his life, as if he were innocent. _Fuck_. He loved it when guys acted like that. All sweet and inexperienced despite their suggestive looks or reputation, turning into a drooling slut within minutes of his cock stretching their tight ass. He hadn’t been with a guy like that in ages. Not since Uryū started dating someone seriously and their side relationship had to end. Although, Uryū was more of a legitimate vulnerable bottom than a faker. Grimmjow would be better anyway. He looked like the type who’d argue and puff himself up with masculine bravado but the moment Ichigo had him pushed against the wall with his tongue fucking Grimmjow’s mouth it’d be all over. A tongue dashed over Ichigo’s lips. Yeah. That’s exactly the type of guy he was. From what the blonde has told him, he didn’t bottom much, but fuck, if Ichigo were given the chance he’d totally change his mind about that.

Images of yesterday infiltrated his mind and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself quiet. Grimmjow took his cum with such _greed_. He hadn’t let a single drop escape, and it looked so damn _good_ on that hand. Then, without a second to waste, Grimmjow used his soiled hand to stroke himself into completion. Ichigo’s mouth watered at the mere memory of it. His cum smearing on that gorgeous cock. The absolutely _lewd_ sounds it made. The even worse moans tumbling from Grimmjow’s lips. Ichigo bit down harder on his tongue and ground his palm against his awakening member. He wanted to see that again. Every last damn second of it. Except next time he won’t let Grimmjow run out of here with his tail between his legs. No. He would let Grimmjow touch himself, and once he got close to his release Ichigo would get on his knees and let the blonde cum all over his face, on his tongue. Then... _then_ Ichigo would take Grimmjow into his mouth. He’d suck and lick off his own cum and moan when that soft cock would start to harden again. Ichigo knew he was a tease, so instead of pulling away, he would continue sucking, sliding and stretching his lips as Grimmjow got worked up all over again. Hell, at that point he’d probably just let Grimmjow cum down his throat. Maybe even fuck it. Grimmjow seemed like he’d be long enough to reach. His jaw would ache from the girth alone but shit. You don’t say no to a cock like that. Ichigo chewed on the inside of his lips and his hips twitched, carefully rubbing against his palm and trying to go unnoticed. Shit. He couldn’t tell what he wanted more. For him to dominate Grimmjow or for Grimmjow to dominate him. Both sounded so damn _good_. But none of that could happen until Grimmjow stopped being shy.

Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow again. Damn. That blush was too fucking cute. He never pegged Grimmjow to be the type to get embarrassed by sexual stuff no matter how kinky or gross it was. His eyebrow twitched as a thought occurred to him. Was it possible that _he_ was kinkier than Grimmjow? The blonde was practically known as a sex god among the campus, hell, maybe even the whole city. Experience doesn’t always insinuate that someone was kinky, though. Ugh. It didn’t matter anyway. Not right now. He needed to get Grimmjow to relax.

“I think I could last longer than you.”

Grimmjow jolted at the sound of his voice and Ichigo had to choke down a chuckle. _Cute_. Blue eyes met his and immediately dropped to the floor. The blush deepened to a dark crimson.

“What d’you mean?”

Ichigo formed a loose fist and jerked his wrist. “Coming. I can hold off longer than you.”

The man’s brow furrowed but his shoulders loosened. “You mean, like, edging?”

An electric shiver shot down Ichigo’s spine at the word. He _loved_ that Grimmjow knew the word. He didn’t seem to be experienced in it but at least he knew the concept. That was going to make all of this easier.

“Yeah. Edging. You ever done it?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow made a face and shook his head. “No. If I’m gonna touch myself or have someone touch me I’d rather finish what was started instead of just...letting it fizzle out. Kinda anticlimactic.” He paused then turned his eyes to the ginger slowly. “What about you?”

He was not about to tell Grimmjow orgasm denial was a major thing for him. That was the kind of shit you confess to your significant other or a one night stand you never saw again. Or at least while wearing a mask. All in all, not something you usually admit to. “I’ve done it a few times. It’s actually a lot better than it sounds. And it’s not like you don’t climax at all, it just takes you a while to get there,” Ichigo said with a shrug.

He wasn’t sure his words were convincing. Ichigo stopped himself from whining. Grimmjow would look amazing. Squirming and sweating and _begging_ to come—and of course, the answer would always be no. Ichigo could take as long as he wanted to make Grimmjow come. Actually, he _would_ take as long as he wanted. Watching Grimmjow wriggle and buck his hips for hours on end sounded _perfect_. Pornographic poetry. Shit, he wanted it; badly.

“I think I could beat you. You always come first when we, uh, y’know,” Grimmjow coughed.

A bashful Grimmjow was a sight to behold. He really wished he had his camera.

“That’s because we were trying to get off then,” Ichigo snickered and grabbed two cans of beer, one for him and one for Grimmjow, “This time it would be pushing ourselves to the limit without jumping off the cliff.”

“So it’s a shitty handjob,” Grimmjow snorted.

Ichigo couldn’t help but laugh. “Nah, man, far from it. The point is, it’s supposed to be the best damn handjob you’ve ever gotten, but right when you hit the peak you hold back and prolong the release. Turns thirty minutes of fun into hours.”

Grimmjow took the can of beer with a grunt of thanks and pried it open. “Sounds like torture.”

“Mmm,” Ichigo hummed as he took a swig of his drink and grinned at the blonde, “It does turn your brain to mush. After a while all you can think about it coming no matter the cost, and you can’t stop shaking and everything is sensitive and the slightest touch drives you fuckin’ wild. If it’s torture then call me a masochist.”

Honestly, he was so much more than a masochist. Edging was, frankly, the _least_ kinky or weird shit he was into. In fact, edging was pretty damn vanilla in his terms. Of course, that was just edging by itself. If they were in a scenario where Grimmjow was edging himself _while_ riding a dildo or fucking himself with a vibrator—that would be different. Still on the vanilla side in Ichigo’s opinion. His typical form of edging wasn’t through direct contact on his partner’s erection. He was much, _much_ more sadistic. Ichigo couldn’t help but catch a glance at Grimmjow’s lap. _Fuck_ yes, he was getting hard. While that was fantastic for their current situation, he couldn’t stop the fantasy from playing in his head. If he were to do things his way...it would be very different. First, Grimmjow would be naked—no excuses. Second, no way in _hell_ would he be allowed on any furniture. A man like that belonged on his knees even if they bruised and ached, and the only other option was to lay on his stomach with his ass high in the air. It would be a shame to not see that face, though, so he would most likely keep Grimmjow on his knees. Ichigo licked his lips and took another sip of his beer. Third, which was technically an unlisted step to take before the first, that cock of his would be caged. Grimmjow was far too big even limp to be placed into one of those plastic cages he adored so much. No, he would have to wear a metal one. The kind that, when Grimmjow got wickedly hard, the flesh of his beautiful dick would bulge between the metal bars as if trying to burst out. Yeah. Yeah, that was good. Possibly better than the plastic one. Ichigo swallowed another mouthful of beer and rubbed his thighs together. Fourth, the actual edging wouldn’t be done by stimulating that gorgeous dick. No, Ichigo had crueler ways. A vibrator, the biggest one Grimmjow could take, angled just so to rub and grind against the sweet spot inside. Fuck yeah. Ichigo crossed his legs and quietly palmed himself. That’s how he’d do it. He may change it up just for Grimmjow, though. Maybe place the vibe against the cage instead. That way Ichigo could use his own fingers to stroke the bundle of nerves over and over again until Grimmjow was shaking—possibly even crying—and seminal fluid wouldn’t stop pouring from his caged member. Unable to cum but so, _so_ close. Ichigo bit back a moan as he stroked himself through his sweats. He was glad he wore something looser today. It wasn’t as easy to jack off in jeans. Hell, if Grimmjow did somehow manage to come it would be a ruined orgasm. It would never be enough. Ichigo stroked the head of his cock, only faintly aware of the wet spot beginning to spread on his sweats. If Grimmjow would let him...fuck. There were too many ways he could tie him up. Leather cuffs. A fucking spreader bar. _Actual_ rope. That shit stung after using it, but fuck, Ichigo loved it when his partners came out of a session marked up and fucked up. Rope burns would last for a few days, too. Ichigo bit his lip and his cock jumped as he continued stroking. He wanted to see that more than anything else. He was so close to creaming himself that’s how badly he wanted it. Fuck, might as well. There’s no telling if Grimmjow was going to relax tonight. Besides, touching himself until he came in his sweats, unbeknownst to the man sitting beside him, sounded pretty damn hot.

“I’m pretty sure I’m gonna win because you’re about to cream yourself and we haven’t even started.”

Ichigo stilled. His lustful, glazed eyes landed on Grimmjow who calmly drank the last of his beer before throwing the can away. He sniffed and met Ichigo’s gaze with a lazy grin.

“You think I wouldn’t notice? Your cock is too fucking big to miss, man,” Grimmjow said.

Shit. Grimmjow had seen all of it. His cock throbbed and Ichigo squeezed the base as precum spilled from the tip. Fucking hell he still wanted to come in his own pants. This time, however, he wanted Grimmjow to watch him. Every last second of it. Watch him stroke himself through the grey fabric of his sweats. Listen to Ichigo panting and moaning with every movement he made. Feel those gorgeous blue eyes on his body as he soiled himself, cum pushing through the loose weave of cheap fabric. Grimmjow could tell he wanted it. Ichigo was sure the blonde wanted it too.

Grimmjow jerked his chin in a subtle gesture to Ichigo’s hand. “You can finish if you want, but that’s going to put you at a disadvantage. You’ll be extremely sensitive.”

Disadvantage. Grimmjow was willing to try it. Ichigo couldn’t stop the moan that rolled off his tongue. There’s no way he could stop now. He was so damn close.

He dropped his head back and uncrossed his legs, giving Grimmjow full view of his hand stroking himself through his pants. Deep, panting breaths puffed from his pink lips and his hips rolled forward. “Can’t...can’t stop. Not when...you’re looking at me,” Ichigo admitted.

Grimmjow nodded in understanding but said nothing more. Good. He didn’t need the blonde’s voice for this. Just those eyes. Ichigo pressed the side of his face into the cushion and started stroking himself faster. He loved those blue eyes. They were striking. They were beautiful. Their gaze always locked him in place. Animalistic. Calculating. Intuitive. He loved it all. But what Ichigo loved most of all…was how those eyes completely changed when they looked at him. A moan tumbled from Ichigo’s mouth and he rocked his hips forward, grinding into his palm feverishly. Black pupils narrowed, then swallowed that cyan iris hue until only a sliver of his humanity was left behind. Hunger burned in the soulless, icy depth and Ichigo shivered. Those were the eyes of a man who would chew him up and spit him back out. Use him. Not many had done that before. They tried, but they never took it far enough. Ichigo’s breath hitched as he scanned the blonde’s body. Grimmjow was bold enough to do it. If he fucked anything like the way he fought...then Grimmjow knew exactly how to destroy him. A curse pushed through Ichigo’s teeth and the ginger bit his lip. He could feel those eyes all over him. Everything laid bare and exposed for Grimmjow to see. This was shameful. Getting off to someone he barely knew on a personal level watching him touch himself should be a new low, but it really wasn’t. He’s done far worse. Ichigo couldn’t help but smile to himself. He was so fucked up. Who was going to trust someone like him to cut them open and play doctor?

“You’re such a goddamn slut.”

Fire ripped through Ichigo’s veins at those condescending words and his back arched as he cried out. Brown eyes flew open and the fire in his body spread with a brisk cold wave of shame. Grimmjow was grinning at him. A wolfish smile that leered and teased the ginger because he found a weakness. A blush overwhelmed Ichigo’s cheeks and he bit his lip harder but found himself unable to keep from smiling back. He really was fucked up.

“You’re such a freak, Kurosaki. Touching yourself secretly in front of others, intending to cum in your own pants right next to me, you’re fuckin’ sick,” Grimmjow purred.

Fuck. Ichigo whined as if to argue and his hand shook in pleasure. More. He needed more.

“Gr-Grimm... _ah!_ Grimm, please,” Ichigo stammered. He was so pathetic.

“Please what? You want me to touch you? Why would I touch someone as disgusting as you? You’re perverted. You’re _pathetic_ ,” Ichigo’s body jerked at the word and Grimmjow chuckled darkly, “I bet you do this shit all the time. Jacking off under the table in class and trying to save face when you come on the floor like the whore you are. Touching yourself in public, getting off to all the eyes watching you, catching glimpses of the gross college brat coming into his hand.”

“Shit,” Ichigo gasped. Grimmjow wasn’t far off, actually. He had done both of those things. He had held his textbook in his lap during class, hiding that his cock was throbbing in his hand and needy for release, and biting his flesh to mute moans as he came on thin pages. The second he typically did on the subway. He came in his hand. On the floor. In the seat. On the doors. It always depended on how crowded it was. There was even a time his cum stained a stranger’s leg. He hated himself for it, especially because doing such a thing got him hard again, but that changed when the man revealed himself to be a total douchebag. He was still despicable.

“I bet you’ve coated a changing room mirror in your cum.”

Yes.

“Came under your desk at work while your boss stood over you.”

_Yes_.

“And I bet each time you licked and swallowed the cum off your hands like the disgusting fucker you are.”

Ichigo moaned and his spine almost snapped at the pressure of his arch. _**Yes**_.

“Grimm...Grimm, I’m so close,” Ichigo moaned.

“What are you telling me for?” Grimmjow’s voice was thick and husky, the arousal in his tone betrayed his dismissive words, “We both know you were going to come in your fucking pants like a goddamn degenerate whether I gave you permission to or not.”

That’s all it took. Ichigo slapped a hand over his mouth and screamed. His hips lifted off the couch as he came, his whole body convulsed with violent shivers as cum seeped through his sweats in thick, white beads. It took a long minute before he eased back into the couch, panting and covered in sweat with tears in his eyes. He didn’t dare move the hand away from his mouth. The electrifying lightning rampaging throughout his body continued to entice random spasms from his muscles and strange noises from his throat.

“Fuck, you’re still coming,” Grimmjow said, his voice nearly growling from starvation.

Ichigo glanced down with watery eyes and whined. He was right. With each spasm, his cock twitched and more cum pushed through the fabric, adding onto the massive mess already there. His precum alone had made a sticky wet stain, too. Now a good portion of his left thigh was completely stained. He closed his eyes and bit harder onto his hand, riding out the remaining waves until it was safe to speak. He dropped his hand to the arm of the couch and trembled. He had made a mess of himself. In front of _Grimmjow_. Ichigo should feel horrified by this reality, but his stomach ignited with a small spark of arousal.

“How the fuck can that much cum make it through?” Grimmjow panted. His hand neared his belt, pulling at the buckle in haste but never looking away from Ichigo’s thigh.

The ginger smiled and slipped a thumb behind the band of his sweats and pulled it down, exposing his reawakening member. “Helps when you don’t wear underwear.”

Grimmjow moaned and all but ripped open the front of his pants. “You prepared for this?”

“Surprised?” Ichigo licked his lips, eager to see that magnificent piercing again.

“Thought you’d never let me back in after…,” Grimmjow didn’t finish and his hand was less feverish in pulling himself free.

Shy and ashamed for something he definitely shouldn’t regret. “Good thing we’re both freaks, eh?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow met his eyes and the brilliant smile that split across his face made Ichigo’s heart flutter. A pale hand slipped under the band of—once again—unnecessarily tight underwear and hips lifted to give Grimmjow enough space to pull himself free comfortably. Ichigo swallowed at the sight. That cock was breathtaking no matter how many times he saw it. His hand ached to touch it. Hell, his throat was building a plea for the blonde to fuck it raw. Instead, he bit his tongue to stay silent and watched the man stroke himself at a hurried pace, one that was quicker than his usual. He was already half hard, too. He really affected him that much? Ichigo smirked crookedly. Not to sound like an egomaniac, but he did have that effect on people.

“Kuro—Ichigo.”

Ichigo’s heart lurched and he met desperate blue eyes.

“I, um, I don’t think I can stand edging tonight. I just...I _really_ want to come,” Grimmjow all but whimpered. Actually, he kind of _did_ whimper. Shit. Grimmjow kept on surprising him in the best ways.

Ichigo allowed his smirk to grow but kept it soft and flirtatious. “Impatient, huh?”

Grimmjow scowled but it held no heat. “You just jacked off into your own pants because we hadn’t done anything yet. You really want to lecture me on patience?”

Ichigo grinned. He loved a man that was ready to bite back. “Well, we could always see who gives the better handjobs.” Fuck this was perfect. He was dying to get his hands on that cock and he may actually _get to_. If Grimmjow said yes, that is.

“Um, I, uh, I don’t have anything against that. I _definitely_ don’t have anything against that, but,” Grimmjow chewed his lip and his hand slowed, his eyes avoiding brown irises, “In this position, I can’t really touch you.”

Ichigo blinked, then it clicked. Ah. That’s right. Grimmjow’s left arm. He had forgotten. He had wondered before why Grimmjow bothered with a prosthetic in the first place when the one he had couldn’t really be used for anything and was more for appearances, but he supposed that was the point. Grimmjow was the type to be conscious of such things. Maybe not in personality and the way he portrayed himself, but physical aesthetics always seemed to be a top priority for him. Whatever the case didn’t matter. If they were going to continue doing this—which Ichigo supported with all his heart and soul—he needed Grimmjow to be comfortable around him. The easiest way to do that would be to give him control. Luckily, getting people to trust him was his specialty.

“Well,” Ichigo began, “We could do this.”

Without hesitation Ichigo planted one knee beside Grimmjow’s thigh and slid into his lap, straddling him as if he belonged there. The blonde’s eyes widened and the lump in his throat bobbed. Ichigo smiled gently, placed his hands on Grimmjow’s sturdy shoulders, and leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched and shared the same breath. _Damnit_ this guy smelled fantastic. He couldn’t stop himself from breathing it in, from tasting it on his tongue. Mint, the kind that was so crisp and strong it made his eyes water. Chocolate, too, but it was bitter and faint from the overbearing, cold flavor. Despite that wonderful sunny blonde hair, Ichigo had always likened Grimmjow to winter. Freezing blue eyes. Pale, chilled skin. His personality often harsh, but occasionally calm and soothing. Pain and comfort all wrapped up into one gorgeous being. His lips approached Grimmjow’s and the blonde’s breath hitched. Winter had always been his favorite time of year.

“How’s this?” Ichigo asked, his voice now a hushed whisper.

Grimmjow gulped and cleared his throat. “I, ah, I think this’ll work fine.”

A low, breathy chuckle escaped Ichigo as he pressed closer. Their foreheads briefly touched.

“May I?” Ichigo asked. His eyes flickered down for a split second, just enough time for Grimmjow to understand what he was asking.

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

A tanned hand squeezed Grimmjow’s shoulder in reassurance before sliding down a hard chest and even harder abs to the prize below. His thumb grazed the head first. He paid special attention to the piercing, stroking and probing where the metal vanished into flesh and smiled when Grimmjow responded with an uneasy sigh. One by one his fingers wrapped around Grimmjow’s length, marveling at the sheer weight of such girth, and stroked him slowly. He mimicked the blonde’s style and hoped to pull the same responses from him, and he didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes the man panted faintly. Each hot breath ghosted over his throat and enticed goosebumps to emerge from his tanned flesh. Then sweet, shy groans lined on that pink tongue and fell one by one. Ichigo bit his lip to hide his smile. Those noises were so fucking _cute_. He never imagined a big man like Grimmjow would make such submissive sounds.

“Uh...uhnnn... _ha_! Ngh— _fuck_. Ich...Ichigo, m-move faster,” Grimmjow whimpered between each groan.

He loved it when Grimmjow said his first name. It had always been “Kurosaki” before now. To be fully honest with himself, he can't remember the last time a sexual partner used his first name. It kind of turned the utterance into an aphrodisiac. “Why should I? I'm kind of enjoying watching you squirm,” Ichigo confessed.

“Because keeping your partner from coming isn't the mark of a good handjob,” Grimmjow retorted.

Ichigo shivered. Grimmjow had tried to come across as annoyed and angry, but instead, he sounded desperate and impatient. He loved having this much control over his partners.

“This is how _you_ touch yourself,” Ichigo countered softly, “You always like to torture yourself. Slow, languid strokes. Cruel attention to super sensitive spots. Precum dripping down your fingers. Tugging on that beautiful piercing.”

He pulled gently on the silver ring for emphasis. Grimmjow inhaled sharply and his cock twitched in response. Teeth chewed on a plump pink lip as Ichigo continued his strokes. The blonde was a glutton for punishment. He was definitely the type of guy who would fall apart from endless pleasure. Slow sex was his kryptonite; all of that adoring attention would suffocate him. He’d hump the bed to gain a little friction or try to touch himself, and when he was denied release he would tear up and beg. Ichigo could see it now. Grimmjow, laying on his back, begging for Ichigo to fuck him harder, faster, with those overstimulated tears in his eyes. If Grimmjow started to complain the ginger would correct him with a harsh slap to the side of his face and keep striking him until Grimmjow’s words transformed into moans and whimpers. If the blonde squirmed too much then Ichigo would strangle that pale throat until Grimmjow could only drool. He could turn this beast of a man into his own personal fucktoy—and Grimmjow would love every second of it. Ichigo felt his hips buck from the visual and groaned. Shit. He was so fucked up. If Grimmjow could hear his thoughts he was sure the man would kick his ass here and now—if not kill him.

“Fuck, ha! I don't...I don't want you to touch me the way I would. I want you to touch me the way _you_ would,” Grimmjow said.

The ginger shivered. A dark chuckle rattled in Ichigo's throat and he pressed his forehead to Grimmjow’s. “If I touched you the way _I_ wanted to, there wouldn't be anything left,” he whispered.

He hadn't expected the blonde to moan or for the thrilling sound to be so loud. Nor had he expected Grimmjow to twitch against his palm and throb while oozing a new flood of precum. It was beautiful.

“I'm counting on it. Hell, I’m _praying_ there won’t be,” Grimmjow chortled.

Massive hands held Ichigo's waist and pulled him closer until the ginger's clothed erection ground against Grimmjow’s naked crotch. Ichigo swallowed.

“You don't know what you're saying,” Ichigo whispered.

Pale hands slid down his body, teasing his sensitive sides and tender stomach before pausing at the band of his sweats. Fingers pried the sweats back and Ichigo cleared his throat. He was hard from his thoughts alone. It was stupid and pathetic; embarrassing to the point of his cheeks staining a pink hue.

“That's the point, Ichigo. I want you to thrill me. I've heard rumors about you, you know? People talk. Everyone's curious about what you do on the weekends. Where you disappear to. Why you don't seek comfort from others. There's even a debate on whether that ring on your finger is real. After all, you don't touch anyone,” Grimmjow smiled wolfishly and stroked Ichigo slowly, “And yet you touch me. Why is that?”

“You brought it up first. You started this stupid competition,” Ichigo answered quickly, fearing that his voice would give.

“And I gave you the chance to say no.”

The ginger gasped when the tight foreskin on his cock was pinched and trembled at the familiar sting. Fuck. He didn't know people talked about him. About his disappearances, that is. Rumors about the ring on his finger and general rumblings of his name were normal and he had hardly noticed it. His weekends had never been a topic of discussion before.

“C'mon, Ich, give me a little hint,” Grimmjow cooed.

Those thick fingers continued to tug and tease on his foreskin and refused to stop even when he shivered and shook. He couldn't let this continue. His slim hand framed Grimmjow’s face as his grip on the blonde’s cock grew painfully tight, enough to make Grimmjow curse and release him in return. Ichigo chuckled and angled Grimmjow’s jaw so their lips almost touched.

“Where I go is none of your business,” the grin on his face ached when their noses bumped, “And it's not a place a vanilla like you could survive.”

Grimmjow’s eyes widened and before he could speak Ichigo crushed their lips in a violent kiss. They moaned in unison as the fire between them expanded and consumed the entirety of the apartment. They wasted no time in deepening their kiss, opening their mouths wide as tongues sought to taste the other. The piercing on Grimmjow’s tongue tickled as it invaded his mouth and the sensation spurred his hand into action. He stroked Grimmjow at a brutal pace, ending their kiss momentarily to spit on the leaking head and using it as a shoddy lubricant. He didn't have enough time to stop and use the lube only a few inches away from their thighs. Besides, Grimmjow said he wanted Ichigo to touch him the way _he_ typically would. Ichigo liked to make his partners suffer. Tanned fingers twisted in blonde locks and pulled hard on Grimmjow's hair, swallowing the moans he released. He rocked his hips roughly and ground his cock against a hard stomach. He was impatient. He needed Grimmjow to touch him. Luckily the man understood. They jacked off together. Touching each other as if they were touching themselves. The blonde was impossibly slow. It was torturous to feel that big hand stroke him sluggishly, and even worse when the man pinched and pulled tight foreskin. He almost found himself moaning for Grimmjow to pull harder, desperate to feel more of that pleasurable sting. Instead, he quickened his pace and bit Grimmjow's lip until the weak skin tore. Fuck. His blood tasted even better than he had anticipated. Shit. _Grimmjow_ was better than he had anticipated. He never expected this to happen. Becoming friends with the bastard seemed impossible when they first met, then suddenly, the two spent most days of the week drinking, smoking, and watching whatever lame shit his lousy television picked up; now they were jacking off in front of each other, touching one another, fucking _kissing_. Fuck, and was Grimmjow ever a fantastic kisser. His lips moved at the same speed as his hands. Slow kisses forced Ichigo to match his speed, which, in turn, increased the smoldering heat between them and prolonged their pleasure. Slow wasn’t Ichigo’s style, usually. He was rough, hard, and fast when he fucked. He never showed his partners’ mercy and he didn’t expect them to go easy on him, either. That was probably why hardly anyone left a lasting impression on him. He never took the time to taste, to experience the body under his hands.

Ichigo bucked into Grimmjow’s hand and groaned, peering through glazed eyes at the blonde. He tasted like cheap beer and pot, which wasn’t completely unexpected, but he also tasted just as he smelled. That wonderfully strong mint flavor pooled saliva onto his tongue and flooded his mouth as if he were a rabid animal. Every swipe of his tongue on Grimmjow’s cheek shot electricity down his spine as ice encroached on his skin. It froze him to his very core and he loved it; severe, deadly, and dangerous. That chilling mint stole his breath bit by bit and stung his skin with goosebumps as if he were climbing a massive, snow encased mountain peak. Despite the slow speed, Ichigo soon found himself unable to breathe, lungs locked and mind clouding with a growing blizzard. The hand touching his body wasn’t any better. His palm seemed to be the only heat source Grimmjow provided, one that he eagerly chased with a rock of his hips. He knew that if Grimmjow moved his hand faster his body would be engulfed in flames, but at the same time, Ichigo wouldn’t be enamored with the blonde, nor cling to him while seeking warmth. It was a torturous balance that held him on a thin edge. A wicked ability indeed.

Grimmjow moaned as their kiss weakened. Starving clashes of teeth and skin faded into accidental brushing of lips as his cool, sweating forehead pressed against Ichigo’s burning brow. He almost groaned, thankful for the cool source, but was soon distracted by the blonde’s breathless and lustful voice.

“Merde. Vos mains sont si rugueuses et chaudes. Ça fait tellement de bien. Je le voulais depuis si longtemps,” Grimmjow groaned.

Ichigo’s body jerked as a small shock of lightning scattered throughout his body. Goosebumps emerged from his skin as he stared at the blonde in shock, dumbstruck by any language except Japanese spilling from that talented tongue. Was that...was he speaking _French_?

“Wh-wha’d you say?” Ichigo stammered, breathless.

Heavy lids slowly revealed bleary blue eyes as Grimmjow stared at the ginger, lost in pleasure and drunk on lust. “Quoi? Pourquoi tu me regardes comme ça?”

Fuck. _**Fuck**_. Ichigo clasped a hand over his mouth as his body convulsed. Tanned thighs trembled, squeezing wide hips as his cock jumped. Holy. _**Shit**_. He was in way over his head.

Grimmjow frowned and tugged on his cock. A weak attempt to encourage Ichigo to move his hand again. “Allons. Que faites-vous? Arrête de taquiner.”

A poorly restrained cry seeped from Ichigo’s lips. His cock pulsed rapidly in Grimmjow’s palm, the head gushing precum. Breathe. He needed to breathe.

“Ichigo. S'il te plaît j'ai besoin de toi. Arrête de me faire attendre. S'il te plaît,” Grimmjow whimpered, teeth peeling a pink lip in persuasion.

He was done for. Ichigo bit the soft flesh of his hand as he continued his work and stroked Grimmjow with a starving ferocity. Thankful for the attention, Grimmjow moaned and bucked into his tight fist, the burning piercing rolling over a calloused palm.

“Merde! Oui, juste comme ça. Putain, c'est tellement bon. Votre main est tellement chaude et rugueuse. Tu n'imagines pas à quel point je te veux. Votre bouche. Ta main. Votre bite. Merde. Tu es si beau,” Grimmjow gasped, words spilling from his tongue in a rush.

A soft whimper squeezed through Ichigo’s lips as he dropped his hand, clinging to Grimmjow while long fingers clawed his shirt. “Please, k-keep talking. Don’t stop.”

“Arrête de jouer avec moi. J'ai besoin de libération. Je ne veux pas mendier,” Grimmjow replied, too deep in lust to look as annoyed as he wanted to.

“Oh _fuck_.” Ichigo’s body convulsed again and he rocked his body, grinding against Grimmjow with a moan. “ _ **Shit**_. I didn’t...I didn’t know that you’re bilingual. Why have you— _haahhh!_ —fuck...damnit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Ichigo...Ichigo je me rapproche. S'il te plaît. J'ai besoin de vous.” Grimmjow’s voice caught as he arched his back, breath struggling to escape.

“ _Shit_.” Ichigo’s hips jerked and he smacked Grimmjow’s hand away. He aligned their cocks together and stroked at a vicious pace, both of them shaking for release. “ _Damnit_. Fuck you for being bilingual, Jaegerjaquez,” he gasped.

Pale fingers clawed at Ichigo’s back. The tight fabric of his shirt stretched under the man’s grip and nails tore the cheap threads one by one. “Ne vous arrêtez pas. Oui. Oui! C'est si bon! JE…!”

Grimmjow’s voice vanished when Ichigo was yanked forward by a handful of hair and their wet tongues clashed in a sloppy kiss. Whimpering moans vibrated Ichigo’s teeth as Grimmjow jerked under him. Shaking and trembling, the man came with a pathetic yelp. He loved the way Grimmjow bucked as he climaxed. Body flooded with boundless energy and pleasure. Lungs overflowing with moans, groans, and screams—a heavily accented tongue uttering his name. Cum spitting from a pierced head and soaking his hand, the man’s shirt, in long, lustful ropes. It was beautiful. An immaculate desert he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into. One that filled with an uncontrollable hunger as he bit Grimmjow’s lip until it bled, pushing the taste into the man’s own mouth, and came with a snarl. Their cocks throbbed and twitched together. An immense and impossible eruption of cum spilled between them until their cocks, hands, and clothes were stained. Using the sticky cum as lube, Ichigo continued to stroke them through their orgasm, both muscular bodies grinding one another as they kissed. They didn’t dare part until their cocks were spent and they were out of breath. The two kissed one last time, sucking and searching each other’s mouths with drool oozing between them; then finally split apart. A burning forehead pressed against a chilled brow, sweat seeping from tired skin, as brown eyes devoured the man before him. Exhausted. Glowing. Breathless and content. Hazy and lustful. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

A pink tongue dashed over plump lips. Tanned fingers unfurled from around their cum slick cocks and reached up to cup Grimmjow’s face, the dirty digits leading the blonde into another, slower, kiss. With a soft press of lips, Ichigo pulled back only to rest his forehead against Grimmjow’s once more. A wet thumb brushed across Grimmjow’s bleeding lip, smearing blood and cum as fingers stroked a sharp jaw. “You’re mine now, Jaegerjaquez,” Ichigo whispered, “All mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! If you have any kinks you would like for me to write between these boys in this universe, feel free to add suggestions to the end of your comments! Please do not suggest the same thing more than once on different fics belonging to this series, give me time to write it because I promise I've read your suggestion! I may not write everything suggested to me, and I will not under any circumstances write emetophilia or anything having to do with shit. But outside of that you pretty much have free range! If I write what you suggest, I will most likely gift the fic to you so if you don't have an ao3 account, think about getting one!


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